


Do You Wanna, Wanna Go, Where I've Never Let You Before

by walfpups



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, There will be cuddling, i guess this is going to be a chapter thing?, isaac has never played scary video games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walfpups/pseuds/walfpups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is being rude as Hale, and Isaac needs to get away for a weekend.  At Stiles' house.  Video games, classic movies, baking, and nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a while ago, so it's set a couple episodes before the finale? Hope you guys enjoy!

Stiles swivels himself around to face his computer screen, manning his usual water gun, which he is now pointing directly at at Scott’s pixeled face. Sometimes Stiles really wishes that Scott had a real internet connection instead of DSL. No, Stiles does not mean the sexual form of DSL, which he is now thinking about. 

Anyway, Stiles lowers his water gun from his screen. Scott looks like a hormonal mix of concern, shame, and goofy happiness. And though the third is obviously linked somehow to Allison, Stiles is sure, he’s curious about the other two. 

“So, are you ready to get your ass beat in Bioshock?” Stiles (somewhat) jokes. If there’s anything Stiles can focus on, let’s be honest, it’s video games.

When Scott doesn’t respond to Stiles’ expectant grin, he rephrases. “I’m taking that silence as the feeling of doom seeping through your bones because you’ve just realized you don’t have a hope of defeating me?” 

Scott’s only response is casting his eyes downward and taking a deep, nervous breath. “Allison called and she thought her and I could-”

“I swear to god, if you are trying to tell me you’re abandoning me for Allison on a friday night, our gaming night, I- I actually wouldn’t surprised,” Stiles finishes, wondering why he wasn’t expecting this before.

“It’s just one night, man. We’ll play tomorrow night, any game you want.” Scott’s obvious pleas for forgiveness have no effect on him, though.

Stiles just rolls his eyes. “You don’t get to say a damn thing about it later, got it? I don’t care if it’s the Buffy the Vampire Slayer game you got me for Christmas four years ago; You don’t say a thing.” 

Scott hesitates, but nods his head. “Thanks, bro. I’ll text you later, promise.”

“Yeah yeah. Just go, you freakishly accurate depiction of puppy-love,” Stiles manages to get in before Scott disconnects. “Goodbye to you too, Scott,” he mutters under his breath.

And really, Scott is supremely lucky. If it was anyone else, Stiles would bring the wrath of hell down on them. But if he could stick through the werewolf-o-rama, he could deal with being ditched for Allison, again.

So, after a few more hours of playing Bioshock, Stiles starts to doze off around the 5th level or whatever, which would be fine if it weren’t for the loud-as-hell tapping going on at his window, signaling that someone is here.

Over the last few months, the amount of times that Derek and Scott have climbed into his window has almost desensitized him completely from these types of situations. 

But, come to think of it, who the hell knocks at this point? Scott climbs in, announcing his presence by drumming on whatever surface he finds first; Derek has never announced his appearance because he is a professional loomer, and Stiles is almost certain he gets off on creeping around and giving people heart-attacks.

So, being used to these types of entrances, the tapping causes Stiles to let out a manly squeak and topple over in his chair. 

Stiles hopes that Derek hasn’t suddenly acquired manners because there was no way he would live it down if it were him at his window. 

Speaking of which, he picks himself up and creeps to the window. Okay, that’s a bit silly because anyone who was there has already seen his fall. But, oh fucking well, this is his room goddammit, not a werewolf Bed and Breakfast.

So, Stiles, now standing at his window, rolls his eyes because of course as soon as he thinks that, it’s another werewolf. Stiles briefly wonders if he’s got a Bella Swan type smell that draws them in. Stiles does not want to be Bella Swan.

He opens the window a bit slowly, (because he’s being cautious, not because it’s heavy as hell and Stiles is too tired for all this) and contemplates just walking away and going to sleep on the bed that is clearly calling out to him. 

That may be a bad decision because who other than a fugitive has come to his house for some R&R? Stiles doesn’t think they got the memo that this is a sheriff’s house. 

“Well, hello Isaac. May I interest you in some fine wine and a massage?” Stiles hopes his words drip enough sarcasm to get through to him.

“Can I come in?” Isaac asks sweetly, like he’s not already at Stiles’ window. When Stiles doesn’t answer, Isaac gives him his innocent doe eyes and asks again. “Please? No attacking you, I promise.” 

Stiles questions everyone’s sanity. 

“Has it slipped by you that this is the house of a sheriff and you were a fugitive?” Stiles’ one again hopes that somehow, someday, he’ll get through the thick skull that is obviously a gene passed through via werewolf-bite. 

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” And if that doesn’t weaken Stiles’ resolve, nothing will. 

Stiles’ remembers what Scott told him about the torture dungeon and, really, this is all getting to Stiles, and he feels bad enough for the guy to let out a long-suffering sigh and step back from his window. 

“Well, come on in then, Bambi.” Did Stiles really say that out loud?

At Isaac’s huff of subtle indignation, it’s clear that he has. 

"And what exactly are you doing here," asks Stiles.

Isaac hesitates and sort of curls in on himself, which makes Stiles want to ruffle his hair, and mumbles, "I was just going to- I mean it's just that- I think Derek is getting-"

Stiles thinks he's got the jist of it. "Derek's showing how poor his people skills are and you need a break?"

Isaac nods, and then shakes his head. "More like he needs a break. he gets a bit angsty after a-" Isaac cuts himself off. "Oh god I'm talking this way about the alpha and this is bad and-"

This time Stiles cuts him off. "Hey, it's fine. It's cool, I get it. We all know about Derek's angst level." Stiles speaks gently, as if he's talking to a spooked animal, and in a way, he is, isn't he?

"I just, well."

"Use your words, Isaac," Stiles interjects.

"Could I maybe stay here for a night or two? No more than five, I promise."

Stiles sort of just stares because, really? How is this his life?

" _Five_? You go from one to five? Jesus. I'm really starting to regret this whole your-best-friend-is-a-werewolf-so-now-all-werewolves-are-friends _nonsense_. Because this is too much." Stiles may be freaking out a bit.

"I'd go back to my place, but with the emptiness, and no running electricity... Not to mention the memor- You know what? I'll just go. There has to be more than one abandoned subway tunnel around here. Sorry that I-"

"Uuuuuugh. You can _stay_ , alright? Now stop with the kicked puppy look because I am sick of dog jokes, and you're probably better company than Derek anyway." Stiles will never admit that he totally caved because of his soft heart, and how Isaac's eyes were actually watering. "But, I swear to god, if you wolf out in my general direction _at all_ , I am tossing you out and lining my window with wolfs-bane. Got it?" If Stiles is letting him stay here, he is so taking control here. He's all about control.

Stiles starts to turn around to get back to his video game because werewolf be damned, he is going to finish this level, when Isaac kind of lurches forward to catch him in a hug.

Stiles goes to awkwardly, not without hesitating, reach around to partially return the gesture, and Isaac full-body flinches. 

And, wow. Even when he initiates the physical contact, he's still afraid. Then Stiles realizes that it's unlikely Isaac's had any sort of non-violent contact in a long time. 

Stiles is starting to get all mushy, and he really needs to stop that because Isaac is a dangerous werewolf who could kill him with almost no effort, and yet he can't bring himself to feel anything other than sorry for the guy.

And Stiles can't just leave that be. 

"Hey, it's okay, man. Just a gentle human hug, here," Stiles whispers soothingly. He brings his hands up to rub comforting circles along Isaac's back. And when the hell did this become normal for him?

When Isaac finally relaxes, Stiles slowly pulls back. Isaac has a self-depreciating smile on his face, and that just won't do. 

He _gently_ wraps his fingers around Isaac's wrist and pulls him along to sit on his bed, Stiles occupying the swivel chair once again. 

"Okay. Ground rules: One, Stay ninja sneaky; Remember, dad equal sheriff. Two, ask before borrowing clothes. You do not get to make fun of my fashion choices. Three, my cooking is amazing, and you do not get to say otherwise. Four, you sleep in the sleeping bag on the floor; It's carpet, not hardwood, so no complaining. And last, but not least, no whining when I beat your ass in any and every video game of my choice. If you do not agree to any of these rules, speak now or forever hold your peace."

When Isaac just nods, Stiles grins widely.

"Great. You may yet survive my extremely wonderful company, which is obviously much more entertaining than Derek's, so really, what do I have to compete with? This'll be totally great. Now let's play some Bioshock."

~~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean you've never played Bioshock?" Stiles asks.

"I've never really had the chance to play video games. My father didn’t approve of them, and I haven’t really had friends to play with at their house." And damn if Isaac doesn't look guilty for that.

Instead of giving Isaac any more reason to think about his dad, Stiles adds, "Oh man. That means you've never played Dead Space, or Mass Effect, or, jesus, any game. Well, we're gonna fix that, got it?" Stiles asks, raising his eyebrows, daring him to refuse.

"Um, well." Isaac starts, but Stiles maybe interrupts him.

"You don't need to sleep as much, right? Scott doesn't sleep that much, only needs a few hours. It's the same for you, right? Because oh my god, we are so fixing this right now. I don't care how long it takes."

Isaac nods, looking as if he knows very well that there is no way out of this.

"Go to the third shelf right there, no, to the left, okay. Look through the games and pick at least five. Yes, five," Stiles directs.

After a minute or two Isaac comes back with Bioshock 2, Mass Effect, (Clearly going off what Stiles said earlier) Dead Space, and, oh my god, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 

"Oh my god, you are actually perfect, aren't you?"

Isaac stares at him, looking very confused, and a bit shocked.

"Buffy!"

Isaac looks down to the games he's bundled.

“Also, that’s four.” Isaac nods to the empty Bioshock case in front of Stiles.

"Oh, right. By the way, I'm proud of you, and you are so much better than Scott. Scott never wants to play Buffy. Therefore, you are perfect. You actually listen to what I say, and you have good taste," Stiles explains. (Okay, joining up with Derek may not have showed good taste, but a guy can't always make good choices.

Isaac actually looks embarrassed, the tips of his ears getting red. Stiles suddenly wonders how many people have told Isaac they're proud of him, even nonchalantly. 

Stiles' face softens a bit, and he motions his hands to hand over to games.

Stiles immediately puts in Dead Space. Might as well show him the fucking terrifying ones before it gets too late. After about 4am, shit starts freaking you out like nothing. 

"Okay, just warning you now, this is probably the scariest game in existence. It's a toss up between starting you off easy, or adjusting you quickly. The other cakes will look like children's games after this. We good?" Stiles has to make sure.

Isaac just narrows his eyes slightly and nods.

"Alright then! Let's do this." 

Stiles sits cross-legged on the right side edge of the bed, in the center. He pats down on the space next to him, grinning with excitement. For the game, obviously. Obviously not over the prospect of sitting close to someone who isn't Scott, once. A very attractive someone. 

So, if he grins a bit wider when Isaac sits down next to him, leaning against the headboard, legs stretched in front of him, it's only because he's enjoying that he's the one introducing Isaac to video games.

Stiles grabs a controller and presses the little ps3 symbol in the middle to turn him on. It! It on.

The opening bit starts to play, and Stiles leans forward. This is going to be _great_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and cuddling, followed by baking.

The first night, Stiles and Isaac both fall asleep on Stiles' bed, ignoring Stiles’ rules, thanks to Isaac’s puppy eyes. It's a fairly warm night, and they both fell asleep with most of their clothes on, so Stiles doesn't notice when Isaac steals all the covers.

Stiles does notice, however, when Isaac starts shaking violently next to him. He's whimpering and clutching at the sheets. Isaac's forehead is creased with lines, eyes clenched shut. 

At first Stiles hesitates to wake him, worried that Isaac might lash out when woken. But when Isaac jolts especially hard, Stiles reaches to tighten his hands around Isaac's shoulders, lifting slightly to wake him up.

Isaac jumps awake and grabs onto Stiles' forearms, holding on for dear life. Panic is etched across his face, and he continues to gasp and breathe sharply for a few minutes.

When he realizes where he is and what's happening, his face softens, but his hands don't leave Stiles' arms, clutching them while he slowly comes to.

"Hey, hey. You're alright. It was just a nightmare. You're safe, and I'm here, okay? Relax," Stiles soothes. He lifts one hand from where it's now gently resting on Isaac's shoulder, to run his fingers through Isaac's damp curls. He rubs circles into his scalp, never raising his voice above a whisper.

"Stiles?" Isaac murmurs, the anxiety creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, it's just me, buddy. You were dreaming." Stiles briefly wonders how many times Isaac has woken up to nightmares alone, or without comfort. It's not a happy thought.

Once Isaac becomes more aware, Stiles can see the embarrassment clear on his face. "I'm sorry I woke you. I can move to the floor if-"

"Don't even start that. You can stay here however much you need. I'm not leaving you alone, alright?" Isaac nods.

Isaac must suddenly notice that he hasn't yet let go of Stiles. He pulls back sharply and looks away.

Stiles doesn't call him out on it; only takes his other freed hand to curl around Isaac's cheek, stroking softly.

Isaac starts to lift his arms, reaching towards Stiles before he pulls back, unsure.

Stiles is not letting Isaac stay too embarrassed to ask for the comfort he oh so obviously needs, so he takes the hand still rubbing through his curls to wrap it loosely around one of Isaac's wrists. Stiles shifts to lay on his back, and gently pulls Isaac forward, closer to Stiles.

Isaac takes the offer and curls himself up to Stiles' side, tentatively wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist. Stiles sighs, subtly letting him know it's okay.

Stiles wraps his own arm around Isaac's shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. Isaac shifts to lay his head on Stiles' chest, finally relaxing.

They fall asleep soon afterwards, just like that. And Isaac sleeps soundlessly for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~

Stiles wakes up slowly the next morning. His first thought is 'it's Saturday', and his next is 'holy mother of god what-' Totally reasonable because, wow, his memory is not the best first thing in the morning.

Which means, of course, he'd completely forgotten last night's snuggling business. Not that he's regretting it, no way. He's just a bit _surprised_.

Apparently Stiles flails subconsciously, or Isaac could sense he was awake, because next thing Stiles' knows, Isaac is yawning just below his neck. And, hey! Isaac notices that that is very much Stiles' neck. He pulls back slightly and blinks up at him for a moment.

"Well good morning, then! Sleep well? I mean, after, that is- Um, not too warm or anything? Just let me check what time it- Oh!" Stiles cuts himself off when Isaac smiles and squeezes the arm that's still wrapped around Stiles.

"Thank you, for that," Isaac says, knowing full well that Stiles knows what he's referring to. 

"My pleasure! Wait, I'm not saying that I get pleasure out of- Oh god. It's way too early for thinking."

"It's alright. Do you want to go back to sleep?" Isaac asks, kindly. Man, sharing a bed with this specific werewolf sure isn't a hardship. 

But of course then he's very aware of the bed sharing, and now Stiles is much too awake to go back to sleep. He looks over at his alarm clock to see that it's already noon. 

"Well, we're awake, so... Oh! We just stocked up on marshmallows!"

Isaac just stares. Stiles think he should explain, and add some _emphasis_.

"Marshmallows, butter, and _Rice Krispies_ ," Stiles explains. "We are so making Rice Krispies treats!"

Isaac doesn't say no, so Stiles takes that as obvious excitement for food, and wiggles free of Isaac's hold and stand up. He holds out his hand to Isaac, who takes it, and pulls him up to sitting position. 

"You can borrow clothes if you need to. These are a bit messy to make." Stiles points to his dresser. 

He himself walks over to it and starts pulling out a few drawers, gathering some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

He makes a shooing motion with his hand towards Isaac, to face the other way. When Isaac covers his eyes with both his hands, Stiles lets a goofy smile stretch across his face, and starts changing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baking and maybe-flirting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, this chapter is pretty short. Sorry for that, and I might come back later and add a bit more to the end?

"That's really all you need?" Isaac asks, looking a bit skeptical. 

"Marshmallows, butter, chocolate Rice Krispies. Shove 'em together in a pot, cook for a bit, and you're done!" Stiles grins before plopping a giant marshmallow in his mouth. He chews obnoxiously until Isaac starts laughing. Stiles quickly shoves a marshmallow into Isaac's mouth. 

In doing so, two of his fingers catch on Isaac's bottom lip. And, okay, Stiles heart might have fluttered at that. He just hopes that Isaac was too focused on chewing his marshmallow to notice. 

"All right! Ready to start mixing?" Stiles chokes out, face flushing. 

Isaac nods as a grin stretches across his face. 

Stiles' stomach did a slight flip at the sight. Stiles - and every person who wasn't blind - knows that Isaac is definitely high up on the 'holy god, you are attractive' scale, but for the first time, Stiles realizes that he's absolutely beautiful.

After a few moments of Stiles staring at him with his mouth gaping, he manages to pull himself together enough to smile back and starts to rummage through the cupboards for a medium sized pot. 

He finally locates one in the highest cupboard, which of course, he can't reach. Stiles internally debates how ridiculous he would look if he went to find a stool to step on. He's just about to grab a near-by chair when Isaac, picking up on his damsel-like distress, reaches up and easily grabs the pot. 

Stiles bites his lip when he feels Isaac's thigh brush against his groin. And really, these accidental touches are totally going to give Stiles away.

But between the way his heart keeps fluttering whenever Isaac does something especially adorable, and Isaac's heightened hearing, it's probably already given away. 

By the time they finally have a good batch ready, they've already either somehow caused the mixture to explode, or burnt the sides of the pot, or set off the smoke alarm. The simple solution to that was opening a window, but Isaac's baking skills are completely irredeemable. 

The fourth batch turns out as good as they're getting with this luck, which surprisingly, isn't all that bad. Technically they have to let it sit for a few hours before it's edible, but hey, Stiles' patience for food only lasts so long. 

So, they immediately begin to eat the gooey slop with spoons, blowing on each bit before taking a bite.

"Ohmygodfinally," he moans around the first bite. Because, really, if the fourth batch had been botched, Stiles doubts he could've continued. "Is this delicious, or is this delicious?”

Okay, so maybe Stiles may go gone cross-eyed over the wonderful food like Emma Stone is Easy A - not that Stiles is implying he’s easy because he so isn’t. Okay, maybe he is. 

When his eyes return to their normal position, he notices that Isaac is, well, blatantly staring at his mouth. It goes on for a bit longer than being fair to Stiles’ ability to keep himself from blushing. Within a few moments, Stiles has turned completely red, licked his lips nervously (Isaac’s eyes totally follow the movement), and let out a nervous laugh. 

“You have something on- Um, it’s right on- I’ll just-” And Isaac sounds just about as nervous as Stiles feels.

Then, wow, Isaac is reaching out a tentative hand to brush softly just under the expanse of Stiles’ bottom lip. Stiles, either consciously or subconsciously, he’s not sure, ducks his head a fraction so his lips are resting gently on Isaac’s thumb. And, okay, if Stiles purses his lips, it’s only because he obviously doesn’t know what to say. 

When Stiles realizes that, oh god, he just totally kissed Isaac’s thumb, he turns even redder, if that’s even possible, and jerks his head back, as if electrocuted. 

Stiles looks back up at Isaac and is relieved that while Isaac doesn’t look angry, he definitely looks stunned. Stiles opens his mouth, ready to babble some sort of apology he hasn’t fully thought out yet, before Isaac’s shock-parted lips stretch into sort of an awkward grin, and hey, Isaac is full out beaming. 

But, of course, that doesn’t stop Stiles from babbling.

“Oh god, um, I’m sorry that I- I mean, well, you’re smiling so I’m guessing, hoping really, that you’re not going to kill me- Not that I’d think you kill me because you’re just not that kind of guy? Unless that’s insulting, then you’re totally dangerous, like a kitten or a bunny. And, oh god, will you please shut me up before you actually do feel an urge to kill me?”

“Stiles.”

“Yes?” he replies meekly.

“Stop talking.”

“Yes, right, definitely. So, no killing?” Stiles has to be sure, you know. Because, hey, deadly werewolf in his kitchen that he sort of just finger-kissed. 

Isaac smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “No killing, Stiles. I wouldn’t hurt you, definitely not you.”

Stiles stomach totally flutters, but what is Stiles supposed to say to that? ‘Thank you for not wanting to murder me violently?’ So Stiles just smiles and nods his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Yeah, that’s, um, good?”

When Isaac looks a bit disappointed with Stiles’ answer, Stiles quickly and silently panics, before knocking his shoulder against Isaac’s and says, cheerily, “So, wanna attempt another batch for a midnight snack?” 

Isaac nods, attempting to look professional, but his eyes crinkle up in a smile, ruining the look completely. Stiles isn’t ashamed to admit that he has to restrain himself from cooing at the cuteness. 

So Stiles nods, letting a grin stretch across his face before grabbing the pot to rinse out to start the process over again, heart fluttering the whole time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oops i accidentally sex scene??????????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck, um, is it good??????????? leave feedback pls

On the second night, Isaac falls asleep while they’re watching Lord of the Rings. Stiles would be offended if he wasn’t acutely aware of Isaac’s warm breath ghosting over his neck. Let alone the solid feeling of Isaac’s thigh pressed against his, and of course, then Isaac shifts, and Stiles is finding it hard to stay still. Mostly because Isaac has now basically buried his face in the space between Stiles’ shoulder and his neck, and, oh god, yep, hooked his leg around Stiles’ left thigh. 

Stiles keeps his breathing slow, and tries to keep his heart rate down. 

And then that plan goes to shit when Isaac full-body nuzzles him, and Stiles is very, very aware of Isaac’s serious a hard-on. Stiles is not one to judge, and it would be totally fine, Stiles would be able to handle it easily, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s being pressed firmly into Stiles’ thigh. 

Stiles is going to have a serious conversation with his own dick later because there is no reason to be reacting like this. Okay, so Stiles is lying. There’s a very attractive male in his bed, curled around him, who is very clearly aroused. 

And of course, Stiles is now aroused, and this is not what hosts do with their guests. To their guests? Oh god, if he could just slip away into the bathroom, he could take a shower (jerk off), and play it off as it’s all fine and-

Isaac stiffens, which means that he’s awake, which means that Stiles is going to die from embarrassment. 

Isaac lifts his head from Stiles’ shoulder and glances down. Stiles blushes and, really, this is so not his fault. Normal reactions of proximity, and oh god Isaac is looking at him. 

Before Isaac can speak and Stiles succumbs to death from cuddling, he says as quickly as he can, “Hey, buddy. Lord of the Rings, huh? I mean, not that it’s the movie or, if it is, that’s fine. I mean, hey, Orlando Bloom, right? Totally fine.”

When it becomes clear that Isaac is very much noticing Stiles’, uh, situation, Stiles just wants to sink into the floorboards. “Uh, Orlando Bloom?” Did Stiles imagine the sudden ‘excuse you’ look on his face? “Not that you’re not attractive. I mean, clearly. It’s not- Not that I’m saying that you’re less attractive than Orlando Bloom! I just mean that-”

“Stiles?”

Stiles is waiting for the gold eyes and the fangs because there is no way he’s going to live this one down. When those don’t come, he whispers, “Um, yes?”

“Shut up.” Then Isaac smiles this dopey smile and Stiles doesn’t understand why he’s not dead right now, and then-

And then Isaac is kissing him. 

Any thoughts Stiles had been having about this, which he’s totally never thought about, really, are nothing like how Isaac is kissing him now. He kisses Stiles gently and slowly, licking delicately into his mouth. He traces his tongue along the roof of Stiles’ mouth and slides a hand up his side, nails gliding smoothly over the skin he’s exposed. 

And when Isaac starts a trail of soft kisses over his jaw, down his neck before sucking at the sensitive skin just beneath the corner of his jaw, Stiles’ chest develops a fluttery feeling that he is so not comparing to butterflies; Something more manly, like hummingbirds, which, come to think of it, aren’t much manlier. Isaac’s lips follow the line of Stiles’ jaw before pressing against Stiles’ own lips again. He nips at Stiles’ lower lip, then licks it to soothe the skin. 

Isaac coaxes Stiles’ tongue into his own mouth and sucks on the tip. Stiles’ slowly explores Isaac’s mouth, still not quite believing that this is actually happening. Isaac lifts the hand previously rubbing soft circles into Stiles’ skin, and curls it around Stiles’ cheek, stroking him there. If Stiles goes weak in the knees, well, no one will know because he’s currently unaware of anything that exists besides the warm body beside him. It’s like the time Stiles’ took way too much adderall and was seeing in tunnel vision all day. 

Isaac tastes like the cake they made after they had gotten sick of rice krispies today. It was funfetti, and it came out wonderfully, and really, he thinks they both deserved that cake in light of recent events. It was ridiculously hot, especially with the oven on, and Isaac had borrowed one of the very few wifebeaters Stiles’ owned. 

Stiles’ lets out a small groan when he realizes it’s Sunday night, which means Isaac will probably train with Derek, and he’ll be at school, and Isaac, being a 'runaway', will not. So far, his dad’s long hours have made it fairly easy to keep Issac around, but everyone in a while, he’s been hidden away in the shower, or the closet, or wherever else to keep him out of sight from Stiles’ dad and-

Stiles pulls back. “Wait, my dad-”

“Isn’t home. Won’t be back ‘til two,” Isaac interrupts. 

“How did you- Right, super hearing. Werewolf thing. Of course, I mean you being a werewolf and all,” and before Stiles can finish his rambling, Isaac reclaims his lips.

And well, if Isaac was being gentle before, not so much now.

His hand glides down and grips Stiles’ hip tightly enough to bruise, not that Stiles is complaining about the slight direction change because he really isn’t. 

Isaac kisses Stiles roughly, now. His teeth (human, thank god) bite down on Stiles’ lip, causing it to swell and quickly slides his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, licking the backs of his teeth. Okay, Stiles can play this game too. He sucks harshly on Isaac tongue, slightly biting down, and reaching a hand to fist it in Isaac’s curls. He scrapes his nails along Isaac’s scalp and he lets out an almost feline purr. 

Isaac moves his way to bite, roughly now, across Stiles’ jaw and licks a wet stripe from his collarbone down just under his ear. Stiles’ moans from somewhere in the back of his throat when Isaac bites down sharply and licks over the bite, before sucking hard. He rolls his teeth over the growing bruise while he sucks, leaving a quickly reddening mark, just beneath where his shirt collars end. 

Isaac sits up and quickly slides off his shirt before throwing it somewhere behind him. He pulls Stiles up into a sitting position and rids him of his shirt too. 

He then pushes Stiles’ down onto his back and leans over to kiss his palm, gently this time, before unbuttoning and unzipping Stiles’ jeans and tugging them off, pulling off Stiles’ socks in the process.

Isaac stands up near the foot of the bed, and quickly sheds the sweats he had been wearing, and Stiles can’t help but drink in the sight of his lean body, eyes stopping at very prominent bulge in his boxer-briefs. Stiles’ subconsciously licks his lips, and he glances up in time to see Isaac follow it with his eyes.

Stiles begins to sit up, reaching towards Isaac, not caring at all how needy he’s being, when Isaac steps forward and pushes him down by his shoulders. Stiles’ breath hitches when Isaac climbs up to straddle him, effectively pinning him down, not like Stiles has any intention of moving away from Isaac. Isaac arches his back slightly, leaning forward to press feather-light kisses everywhere he can reach. Stiles forgets how to breathe for a moment, while Isaac leaves lingering kisses on his lips, on his cheeks, on his jaw, his neck, his chest. Stiles sort of feels like he’s being worshipped, and he doesn’t have a clue what to think about that. He revels in the feeling of hands gliding up and down his sides, pausing at his hips, where Isaac scratches his very human nails gently across the skin there. 

Isaac’s soft kisses soon turn into small nips, quickly covered by his lips, as he sucks and bites and licks, until there are bruises covering his jaw, neck, chest, and wrists. Isaac kisses each one of them, whispering half-words into the marks he created. 

He keeps kissing them all, then licking the shell of Stiles’ ear, and wow, Stiles never really got that before just now, and whispers in his ear, pressed cheek to cheek. “You’re beautiful like this, you know. Wonderful, sexy, perfect. Every positive adjective in the english language and more; You are the embodiment of every single one.” 

Okay, Stiles freely admits it, there are serious butterflies going on in his chest. Stiles turns his heads enough to meet Isaac’s lips, kissing him thoroughly, and yes, as passionately as he manage. 

Stiles is apparently sufficiently distracted enough for Isaac to roll off onto his back, and at first Stiles wonders if he’s done something wrong. But before he can start to panic, Isaac wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist and lifts him as if he weighs nothing, and maneuvers them until Stiles is now straddling Isaac’s lap. He can feel Isaac’s cock warm pressing firmly against him. 

Isaac lifts him up slightly and tugs on Stiles’ underwear until he gets the memo and kneels up as they slide down, and then kicks them to the floor. 

Then Isaac reaches up and grasps the back of Stiles’ neck and pulls him down. Then Isaac is licking into his mouth, and his hands seem like they’re everywhere. His fingers press into bruises even as he nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, kissing and biting every inch of skin he can reach like this. 

And then he is very aware because Isaac’s fingertips are ghosting down Stiles’ stomach, stopping less than an inch away from Stiles’ dick and massaging the soft skin around it, tracing invisible patterns across his inner thighs. 

Isaac may be sweet, rough, and whatever else, but most of all, Stiles has discovered, a tease. 

So Stiles lets out a moan significantly louder than his previous ones and rocks back against Isaac’s erection. Isaac honest to god whimpers before finally giving a long, slow stroke up Stiles’ cock, twisting his wrist when sliding up the head. Isaac gives three more long strokes, and then rubs his thumb roughly on the tip, pressing none too gently against the slit, peppering Stiles’ neck with kisses the whole way. 

And, wow. Stiles is extremely glad they’re alone in the house because he can’t stop the high-pitched moans from pouring out of him. Isaac returns to stroking too slow to get to where Stiles is dying to be, his lips turned up into a slightly mischievous smile. 

Stiles can’t help imagining those same lips stretched around his cock, looking up at him with his blue eyes, just like he’s doing now. 

Isaac speeds up his hand, but not nearly enough. “Please- fuck, Isaac- please just,” Stiles whispers before cutting off his own words with a sharp gasp, as Isaac’s strokes become tighter and faster. He smears the precome gathering at the head, and he smooths his hand with it, making his pulls more slick. 

Stiles is moaning out words left unfinished, and shaking above him, gripping Isaac’s hair and wrenching him up to meet his lips with his own. Isaac kisses like he’s drowning and Stiles is air. 

He kisses wildly, fisting Stiles’ cock just as rough. But it’s the combination of erratically timed strokes creating a warm, tingling pressure shooting up his spine, and Isaac biting down on his neck that tips him over the edge. He muffles a noise that’s closer to a scream than anything else in the crook of Isaac’s shoulder when he comes, coating Isaac’s hand and his own stomach. 

Isaac holds him tight as he rides the aftershocks before he finally comes down. Stiles goes boneless and doesn’t even react when Isaac flips them so that he’s laying on top of Stiles. Isaac’s kissing him desperately, while he ruts in the curve of Stiles’ hip, his dick thrusting through the slickness there, with just enough friction. 

Stiles leans up to nip and suck on his neck, leaving a few marks of his own. Between that and his cock sliding over his skin, Isaac is whimpering and shivering against him. There not so much kissing as they’re breathing each other’s air, hot panting against each other’s lips, when Isaac comes. He grips his hands tight enough to leave more bruises to keep him in place as he thrusts until he’s completely spent.

He kisses Stiles sweetly and unhurried when he returns to his senses, like he has all the time in the world and he’s content with spending all of it kissing Stiles. Isaac lifts the hand not covered in come and curls it gently around his jaw, running his fingers softly over the bitten skin. 

Stiles could spend forever just like this, which is why he lets out a whine when Isaac gets up, but he soon returns with a wet towel to clean them off. 

Stiles doesn’t really know what the etiquette is after getting off with your friendly werewolf guest. He’s not sure if the neediness that had just passed is still acceptable. 

Either Isaac could smell his anxiety, or see it clear on his face because he just rolls his eyes and pulls Stiles against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and letting Stiles rest his head on Isaac’s chest. 

“I was serious, you know,” Isaac whispers, not wanting to break the comforting quiet. 

“Huh?” Okay, so Stiles isn’t the most eloquent after any sort of sex. Who could blame him?

“I wasn’t lying when I told you how amazing you are.” Stiles looks over at Isaac, whose eyes are closed, a soft smile clear on his face.

“Oh.” For once, Stiles is completely speechless.

Isaac peeks at him with one eye open. He tips Stiles’ chin up and kisses him until he can’t think at all. 

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” he whispers. And he does, to the feeling of Isaac’s chest rising and falling and the smooth patterns Isaac is tracing along his skin.


End file.
